


Breathe A Sigh Or Two

by Maggiemaye



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Cancer, F/M, basically all you need to know about the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 21:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13085343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maggiemaye/pseuds/Maggiemaye
Summary: Toby and Happy come home with the news





	Breathe A Sigh Or Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katasstrophee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katasstrophee/gifts).



> This is for Kat, who requested angst of the illness variety. I was happy to have the chance to stretch myself and write this fic, and I hope you enjoy it! Kat, I love following you and seeing your posts and thoughts about Scorpion; you're part of what makes my Tumblr experience fun. So thank you for that, and have a merry Christmas!
> 
> Fair warning to any who do not want to see cancer or terminal illness-related content: that's basically all this fic is. So now might be a good time to turn back. Title is a line from Sarah McLachlan's "Song for a Winter's Night"

Happy slowed down at every yellow light on their way home. She remained two miles under the speed limit and kept her hands at ten and two for the entire drive. She also gripped the wheel so tightly that the skin stretched white over her knuckles. Toby noticed. But he didn’t say anything or reach for Happy’s hand. The static in his brain was too loud.

It didn’t get any quieter even when they were home, walking up the front steps, and Happy hadn’t let go of his hand.

They stayed wordless as Happy unlocked the door and turned the lights on, using just enough force to turn the switch rather than slamming it up like usual. She pulled Toby’s chair out from the table just before he collapsed into it. He was aware of her from the corner of his eye, but it was more that he felt her moving around the room than actually seeing her. Mentally he was back at the doctor’s office, still poring over the scans. Of course he had checked every detail himself, trusting his own expertise far more than any average physician. But as it turned out, the doctor’s diagnosis had been spot on. Devastating in its accuracy.

It took him several minutes to realize that he smelled soup.

Sure enough, Happy was at the stove. It wasn’t beef and barley that he smelled, but chicken broth. Toby wasn’t sure if chicken soup was somehow more potent than beef and barley; perhaps it could work miracles. Toby wasn’t sure of anything at the moment.

She set the bowl of chicken and stars in front of him. Toby blew on it while she went to get a spoon. A moment later he felt a gentle hand against the back of his neck, her thumb passing back and forth just under his hairline. The touch was, suddenly, more than he could take; Happy never touched him like this--or made him soup, for that matter--without a reason.

“Happy.”

“What.”

“What are you doing.”

“I’m nurturing you, dummy.”

“Well, can you stop for just a second? Not to be rude, but you’re freaking me out a lot. Just...adding to my baseline level of freakout.”

She snatched her hand away. “I’m freaking _you_ out? I’m not the one who...”

Her statement hung there for a moment, incomplete, before she cut it off on a growl. Toby watched as she hauled off and threw the spoon against the wall. With the clatter, his static cleared.

It stood to reason that Happy would react strongly to the news. It also stood to reason that he would be reeling long afterward. He supposed there was a reason people referred to it as “the big C.” The word, its implications, were too much for Toby to even contemplate just yet, let alone speak out loud.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He’d been cautioned by many against self-diagnosis, but Toby had had total confidence that his achiness was just the flu, or dormant anxiety, or something else completely routine. It was only when he’d started to miss work that Happy had insisted he go to a “real doctor.”

“You want me to pay money to have some quack tell me what I already know?” he’d protested, even though the longer his symptoms lasted, the more unsure he’d become.

“Just do it. Maybe they’ll give you an antibiotic or something.”  
  
It had been a whirlwind from there. Routine scans showed abnormalities that Toby wished he didn’t know the names of. Samples were sent to numerous facilities at Toby’s request. They all came back the same.

Nothing felt the same now.

“Okay, Happy. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? That you’re...”

She trailed off again. Toby gave in to the temptation to rescue her before she had a chance to finish the thought.

“Sorry I didn’t let you nurture me.” He tilted back to look her in the face, taking in her knotted brow and tightly set jaw. With some effort he coaxed his mouth into a grin, just to see her face relax.

“That figures,” she said, warmth creeping in as she looked at him. “Well, you should be sorry. You’re missing out on some top-notch nurturing. I’ve had lots of practice by now.”

Toby’s smile took less effort as she sat down next to him; even though her closeness was too much for his comfort, he was glad not to be alone. He thought back to his oncology rotation, ages ago. Was this what all the patients had felt after leaving the office? This weight crushing his chest, the utter despair of looking into the future and seeing it shrink? During that rotation, Toby had been the one to tell people their exact calculated odds of survival based on numerous factors, and had watched with some annoyance as their eyes invariably glazed over. He had barely been a teenager then. Now, though, their expressions made sense. Their spouses’ tears and shocked blankness made all the sense in the world.

If he paid enough attention, he thought he could feel his cells mutating one by one. It had taken him so long to find a home; in Scorpion, in Happy, in the world that they had built. Now he didn’t even have a home in his own body.

“You probably want some time to yourself. To process, you know.”

His tone was starting to sharpen, letting bitterness out. It was funny, how he couldn’t really identify what he was thinking or feeling until it hit his ears, and Happy’s. Inside his head it was quiet but numb.

“Tobias. If you even think about leaving me alone, I’ll show you the meaning of pain.”

“Well then, maybe we should just not talk for a while.”

She looked sideways at him. “Is that the most psychologically healthy thing to do in this situation?”

“I’ve clearly never been in this situation before.” He shrugged one shoulder.

“But you’re a shrink.”

“That doesn’t mean ‘psychologically healthy’ is a concept I live by. Thought you knew that by now.”

Happy looked up at the ceiling.

“Well, I don’t want to go back to not talking. If we stop now…”

She paused to compose herself. Even now, Toby could appreciate the flash of her eyes, showing the fiery, vulnerable cracks in stone.

“If we stop talking now, it’ll just be harder to start again.” She made pointed eye contact with him, silently asking Toby to catch her meaning.  _I don't want to lose you while we're both here._

“You’re probably right. And there’s a slight, miniscule chance I’m being dramatic.” Happy raised her eyebrows at that. “I just don’t know what to say, I guess.”

“That’s a first. Say something funny, then.”

She was leading them away from the danger, onto familiar ground that Toby was happy to retread.

“Well, I would,” he replied, blowing on his soup, “but whenever I try to make you laugh you just end up punching me.”

“Maybe I’m laughing on the inside.”

“Or maybe you just don’t think I’m funny. Maybe I make up for it in other ways.”

His halfhearted eyebrow wiggle was enough to make her smile again. Just barely.

“Well, that’s true. But...I actually do think you’re kind of funny.”

Toby put down his spoon in exaggerated shock. “Wow. You really are nurturing me today.”

“It’s true. I’m going to tell you a secret, but you can’t gloat.”

“Gloating is part of the very fabric of my being, Happy. You know this.”

“Fine then, gloat all you want. And I know I’m going to regret telling you this, but...I actually like the stud finder joke.”

Toby gaped at her; she looked like she was biting back a laugh. “You _like_ that?” he said, incredulous. “That’s such low-hanging fruit! I have so many more complex bits! So much better material than the stud finder.”

She shrugged. “Sometimes less is more, Doc.”

“Glad you can still surprise me, Mrs. Quinn.”

They lapsed into silence again, but it was more peaceful this time.

“Look,” she said after a beat. “We’re still talking.”

“True.” He took another spoonful of soup. “You were right. Happy...I’m glad you’re with me today. I...I don’t know what I’d...”

Happy’s eyes widened, but she didn’t recoil from him. Instead she moved closer, covering his hand with hers. “Don’t get sad.”

“I am sad. I want to talk about how sad I am. Because you’re my wife and I want you to nurture me.”

She nodded slowly. Patted the back of his hand. “The doctor said it was treatable.”

Toby sighed and remembered that this was Happy’s way of being gentle and hopeful. It was one of the things he had grown to appreciate more and more about her over the course of their marriage; she wasn’t inclined to let him wallow. Even now, when all he wanted to do was drown in it, he couldn’t. Because she was there, and always would be.

“True,” he finally replied. “There’s a reasonably good chance that it will go away. But it won’t be quick.”

 _It won’t be pleasant,_ he thought but didn’t say. Happy already knew.

“At some point we should tell the team,” she said reluctantly. “Since we know for sure.”

“At some point, yeah.” He turned his (shaking) hand so their palms were touching. Happy’s heartbeat was strong under his little finger. “But...can we wait a little longer?”

Toby hadn’t felt this adrift, lost and wild, in years. He thought this must be what it felt like to really come apart at the seams. He looked at her, helpless, and she must have seen it in his face. Before he knew it Happy had stood up to wrap her arms around his shoulders, to cradle his head just underneath her chest. Toby turned his face to shelter against her stomach, hugging her close by the hips.

“Sure, Doc. We’ll wait.” She caught his shuddering breaths with her body, anchored his head with slender hands. When he felt her stance falter he pulled her tighter, as if to exchange his strength with hers.

He thought this must be what it felt like to be held together.


End file.
